Deadshirt Is Listening… Bringing you a rundown of our staff and guest contributors’ favorite new tracks released in the past week after they’ve had the weekend to blast them in their cars, in a club, alone in their rooms, etc.
Dominic Griffin is Sam Rockwell Dancing to…
“Let’s Dance Raw”
Let’s Dance Raw
Cross Dimensional Genre Bleed Instrumental Music
The breezy, dreamlike music of Yura Yura Teikoku’s Shintaro Sakamoto teleported its way into my life as one would expect, from a Google search’s suggestive “did you really mean…?” tip. I was looking up Ryuichi Sakamoto, so I could listen to his “Bibo no Aozora” from the Babel soundtrack for the millionth time. Word to the wise, Googz: not all Japanese musicians are the same. Where Ryuichi mellows out my extreme mood swings with his plaintive piano and haunting predilection for string arrangements that wouldn’t seem out of place in a nervous dream about being late to your own funeral, Shintaro reminds me of what might happen if Toro y Moi’s Chaz Budnick were shunted off to an alternate future that felt like a kitschy approximation of a past that never was. The title track from his newest release bops along with a chilled-out groove, backseat-driven by Sakamoto’s vocals that make the otherwise funky musical arrangement feel like ’70s karaoke fodder. That’s not a diss, either. I may have absolutely zero idea what he is singing about, but I 100% want to sing along with my fifth Mai Tai and a confused audience of onlooking strangers.
My first experience with Gold Panda’s music came from a Hood Internet mash-up of his song “You” with Lil B that was based as fuck. His latest cut is less dynamic than that track, a five-odd-minute jam of reassuringly repetitive horn loops and hi-hat hits. It’s housey and danceable, but it suits the clacking of keyboard keys in an office just as comfortably as beating feet at the turn up function. Playing it on endless repeat is the way to go, if only for the synapses in your brain to fill in imaginative subtext to the track’s Rorschach test of theme. At first, it feels like the opening credits for a Blaxploitation flick crafted by a French New Wave auteur, but on subsequent listens it begins to morph, from mind numbing mood mantra to soulful metronomo. After about seven spins I started to hear my own heartbeat rhythmically mixed into the background. Twelve listens and I could just begin to make out the indecipherable language gods order Chinese food in. I think I’ve made it to twenty-two plays and I know why the caged bird sings: because someone scuffed her dancing shoes.
Julian Ames is making breakfast and crushing enemies to…..
Before you ask, no, this band Twin Peaks has nothing to do with the television show Twin Peaks, and the release of their record Wild Onion‘s coming within a week of Twin Peaks: The Entire Mystery blu-ray set was just pure coincidence (or brilliant marketing on the band’s part, but nothing else). While the show’s music leaned on the direction of creepy soap opera, the band’s music is more garage glam. The band’s new album, out this week, is just over forty minutes long, though it’s filled with sixteen songs. That’s a lot of short garage punk nuggets to enjoy.
Just about every song on this album is a great candidate to be talked about here, but “Making Breakfast” sticks out to me because of its killer guitar riff. Seriously, this thing is an earworm. It grabs you from the opening; it’s bouncy, catchy and it continues throughout the whole song. The lyrics keep it light as the singer mostly describes his lover and the things he sees around his room and out the window. It get’s a little dark in the chorus when he reminds us that “Nothing lasts forever,” then follows that up with “but don’t let it get you down,” quickly dismissing any bad feelings. “Morning Breakfast” is mostly fun and cheery, just as breakfast after a night with a lover should be.
House Of Wax 7”
“The One” is the B-side of Melbourne band Miss Destiny’s debut 7” single, House Of Wax. It’s a short and not so sweet lo-fi punk song about the ruination of somebody who was “living by the gun.” Singer Harriet Hudson promises that “no one can save you now, it all comes out somehow,” suggesting that the subject will be getting their comeuppance soon. Hudson’s vocal delivery is reminiscent of Joan Jett although without as much edge – but her bandmates and their performances on this song make up for that. They play their instruments fast and loud, and it’s exactly what’s needed to punctuate the vitriol that Hudson is spitting. I think I’ll keep enjoying what Miss Destiny puts out, partially because I’d hate to get on this band’s bad side.